


Wedding Gift Not Wanted

by sherrllocked



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First domestic as married couple, It's a dandy, Just Married, M/M, Make up sex, Resoultion of fight, Surprise Ending, bit of a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherrllocked/pseuds/sherrllocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock had agreed on no wedding gifts for each other since their wedding rings had been deemed enough by Sherlock.  John never one to listen, goes against Sherlock's wishes and gets him one any way.  You can imagine what happens from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wedding Gift Not Wanted

_Silence and bickering._

That’s all there was they’d been doing since they’d arrived home from their sex holiday and John’s wedding gift to Sherlock had finally arrived in a big brown tube.  Obviously Sherlock had known Mycroft had been part to whatever was in the tube that lie on the table because the door knocker had been straightened as per Mycroft’s usual style now, Sherlock had taken to moving it off center when either of them left or they were both gone and Mycroft couldn’t help but to fix it upon entering.

Sherlock had looked at the tube quickly deducing the contents and hadn’t even bothered to open it to look at the contents, he just glared at it as he passed the table walking down the hall to their bedroom with a huff.  Throwing his suit jacket over the back of the chair, leaving John to lug their luggage into their room annoyed that he hadn’t even acknowledged the tube in any way.  He wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or just upset because he knew there was a small chance this whole surprise would upset Sherlock.

By the time John had made it back to the bedroom Sherlock had already changed into his pyjamas and dressing gown and was stalking by John back into the front room still leaving the long cardboard tube on the table.  John stood in their bedroom after placing their luggage against the wall and picking up the rest of Sherlock’s clothes that he had just discarded on the floor, folding them and placing them over the chair along with his jacket.

 _Damn_ , John thought, this is _a bit not good_ , he heard Sherlock’s voice echoing in his head.

He didn’t bother unpacking yet, it was still early, just half one so he went out and quietly picked up the tube and stashed it out of sight beside the desk.  He didn’t even have to turn his head to know that Sherlock lie on the couch, his back to the world, completely curled up in a ball.  How he managed to be so tall yet look so small on the couch was a mystery to John and on most days it would amuse him, but not today.  They’d been married and away for two whole weeks and this was their first _squabble,_ albeit a silent one as a married couple.

He turned and walked back out to the kitchen and opened the cupboard to reach for their mugs to make some tea.

“Sherlock, would you like some tea?”

No answer.  _Right_ John thought.  Really not good.  He got two mugs out anyway and proceeded to make them tea.  Once finished he ambled into the living room and sat Sherlock’s mug on the coffee table next to his phone and took to his chair and settled in, sitting his mug on the stand beside him and picking up the dreadful novel he was still trying to trudge through.  If he could remember who recommended it he would yell at them, but he couldn’t because he was the type of person that needed to know how it ended, so the only thing left to do was finish it.

He knew Sherlock could tell him the ending but apparently since Mr. Strop was in a mood and not talking to him, he would just have to try and make the best of things.  He settled in and tried to find where he left off, somehow his bookmark had mysteriously vanished, he just sighed and shook his head.  Normally he would find it cute because he knew this was Sherlock’s way of saving him from a dreadful book and John would finally break and ask him to tell him the ending, but he knew not to even bother asking and just flipped through the pages sighing softly.  Sherlock snorted from the other side of the room and that’s when John realised that this was going to be a long hellish strop.

They sat in silence for what seemed like forever and then Sherlock’s phone started vibrating.  John rolled his eyes, not even two hours back in London and they were being beckoned to NSY or Mycroft was calling to see if he liked his present and when they could start.  Sherlock just ignored it, silently willing whomever was calling to get the hint.  Obviously they didn’t because after about the fifth time of Sherlock not bothering to even turn to check his phone, John’s phone rang.

“Since I know you’ll answer it, tell whoever it is WE ARE NOT INTERESTED and to bugger off.”  Sherlock snapped at John.

“Oh so now you’re talking to me?” John huffed annoyed, forgetting about the phone ringing.

“Not really, just at you.” Came the reply. 

John knew what game Sherlock was trying to play and wasn’t buying into it.  “OK, fine then”, and he left his phone ring.  Once it was finished with the first call it rang again.  John left it ring on and the next time and the next, he could be just as stubborn as Sherlock and he wasn’t about to let Sherlock win, not this time.  After about the tenth go, Sherlock finally snapped.

“ANSWER that confounded thing and tell them NO!” He growled.

John flipped the page he was on and calmly answered, “you’ll have to do it yourself, I’m not your maid, dear,” mimicking Mrs. Hudson.  He reached over switching his phone off forcing whoever it was calling to return to calling Sherlock’s phone.

It took five more times until Sherlock’s fortitude broke and he finally turned and grabbed his phone, swiping the screen to answer with a bark, “WHAT!?”

“Jesus,” Lestrade muttered into the phone, “Am I interrupting something, though I thought the two of you would be over that by now, Oh God, I can’t believe I said that out loud, delete it.”

“Already done, now I assume you want me on something that isn’t even a three.” Sherlock said nonchalantly, sagging back into the couch and putting his feet on the edge of the table, knowing it would irritate John.

John watched out the corner of his eye and tried to stay interested in the book but almost lost his will when Sherlock purposely moved his right foot over, knocking the tea off the coffee table.

It took all of John’s will power not to get up and grab the phone and hang up on Lestrade and throttle Sherlock, but two could play this game. 

Sherlock smirked and mumbled _impressive_ under his breath and John rolled his eyes again and flipped to the next page, not even having read the last page he was on.

“What was that?  I haven’t even told you what the case is yet, I mean we all know you’re good at deductions, but not that good.” Lestrade let slip and then he ran his hand over his face because he knew Sherlock would hang up on him, but to his amazement, Sherlock stayed on the line.

“Pray tell Detective Inspector, with a comment such as that this must be truly worthy of my skills if you’re able to utter those words with such confidence.”

Lestrade couldn’t believe what he was hearing and now it dawned on him, he and John must be having their first fight as a married couple and because of his newly formed relationship with Mycroft, he had a pretty good idea what it was over – the gift John was not supposed to get.  He had told Mycroft to tell John it would be a horrible idea because Sherlock hated change, especially one of this magnitude, and Mycroft just shrugged and replied something to the effect of his little brother was a married man now and would just have to learn the art of compromise, which made Greg laugh for about ten minutes straight shaking his head saying that even though both Holmes’ brothers pretended not to care about the other, their bond ran deep.

Lestrade tried to stifle a laugh and began to fill Sherlock in on the case. 

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Sherlock jumped up from the couch and spun around in the narrow space before heading to the bedroom, but forgetting about the tea he purposely knocked over, his sock covered feet catching the still wet liquid on the hardwood floor as he stepped off the carpet caused him to not so gracefully fall to his arse, and John couldn’t help but laugh until Sherlock’s body hadn’t stopped moving and his head slammed back hitting the corner of the couch, his head lolling forward for a brief moment before he quickly raised it and shook his head, his eyes closed.  John was immediately by his side trying to feel the back of his head for any lumps or cuts and Sherlock tried to push him away but couldn’t because of the way John was hovering over him. 

Sherlock put his hand on John’s chest and tried to push him back, blinking his eyes repeatedly, trying to focus them, but John held steady.

“I don’t need your doctoring, everything is fine, just a slight bump to the head due to the fact that I forgot there was tea all over the floor.  If someone would have cleaned it up per their norm, this wouldn’t have happened.  Worst case scenario I’ll have a headache. Now would you please move.  I need to get ready to meet up with Lestrade.”

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere till I thoroughly check you out and you knocked the damn cup over on purpose so don’t even try to guilt me into this.  You’re quite old enough to clean up your own messes.  Now would you please look here so I can check your eyes and make sure they’re reactive like they should be. If they are and that’s a big if, then I’ll let you go as long as you take some paracetamol and let me go along.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes.  “Really John, I’m not a baby and my vision is perfectly fine.  I can see things clearly and my head doesn’t even hurt, but if this is the only way you’ll let me go then fine.” He huffed.

John helped him up and was concerned when he wobbled a bit before steadying himself.  “Alright, into the bathroom with you so I can have a look.”

“Is this really necessary?”  Sherlock whined.  “Time is of the essence for this one, it’s a nine and I don’t want Anderson mucking anything up.”

John smiled at Sherlock’s use of words, normally he would never use such language as mucking, John guessed he was starting to rub off on him a bit after all these years of being together. He helped Sherlock maneuvered the spilt tea and then followed him into the bathroom closely as Sherlock had pulled away from him and was trying to hurry to get this over with.

This was really a stupid thing to be mad over and John decided while he had him cornered in the bathroom to examine him, he’d hopefully put an end to it.

Sherlock sat on the toilet huffing and acting like a disgruntled two-year-old while John fished his medicine bag out from the cupboard and dug inside for the light.

He sat it on the sink and turned back to Sherlock.  “I want to check your head again.” He said moving closer and carefully running his fingertips gingerly over Sherlock’s scalp, starting in the front and working his way back, he was going to play dirty if he had to.  By the time he reached the back of Sherlock’s head and lightly explored the area that had made contact with the couch, Sherlock was all but leaning into John’s touch humming at the sensations of John’s fingers on his scalp.  John grinned and crouched down in front of him. 

“Hmm, seems that there is a bit of a bump forming, you’ll probably be sore and tender at this spot for a while, maybe we ought to take it safe and call Lestrade back and tell him we can’t make it.” John murmured, finally getting a look into Sherlock’s eyes, which had calmed to a pale blue, showing no hints of anger.  In fact, his pupils were getting larger by the second and John knew the light was useless now, he was fine, but still upset by John’s gesture which they would have to discuss sometime. 

Sherlock’s eyes slid shut, his long fingers inching up John’s chest over the softness of his jumper as he was drifting towards John’s lips slowly, John’s fingers still in his hair, coaxing him forward, their lips almost touching when John muttered “I’m sorry love.”

Sherlock’s eyes flew open as he shoved John backwards, tipping him off his feet and onto his bum.  Sherlock internally cursed at himself and in doing so, John’s fingers ripped through his hair causing him undo pain spiked with pleasure.

“I knew it!  Trying to make up for your idiocy by luring me into bed.  Well it won’t work.  We agreed John, NO PRESENTS except for our rings which cost a small fortune.  I told you all I needed was that and what you’re proposing is going to cost an extreme amount of money and don’t tell me otherwise!”  He started, his words getting louder as he continued on.  He stood, carefully navigating his way around John shouting all the while. 

“Of all the underhanded, dirty things to do by having plans drawn up in the first place, this is worst.  Trying to make me forgive you with a good shag.  Now if you’ll excuse me I have a case waiting for me.” He finished as he stalked towards the door.

John yelled right back at him, “Glad to know somethings around here will never change and the only way you’re going is with me by your side.”

“FINE!”  Sherlock roared slamming the door.

“FINE!” John bellowed pushing himself up off the floor, putting his light away, but leaving the bag out because he’d probably would be needing it upon their return home.

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Sherlock hastily dressed, not surprised to find his clothes neatly folded over the back of his chair.  He felt a twinge of guilt.  John still picked up after him even after their argument had just begun.  They had both known it was just the beginning but John was still John after all.

That didn’t help though.  It only fueled Sherlock’s anger, he was mumbling to himself as he dressed.  “Why in the world would John think I would want a lab upstairs.  Something is definitely behind this.” and then it occurred to him.   John wanted him upstairs out of the way so he could do as he pleased, now realising the mistake he had made in asking Sherlock to marry him, but John being the man of honour he is, not backing out.  (That was why he married _her_ after all and that went so smashingly well.)  That had to be it, this was the first step, one of many to put distance between them until Sherlock would have enough of watching John suffer and just tell him to leave, he’d have Mycroft make their marriage disappear like he had with _hers_. 

The moment he was done, he raced out the doorway hoping to beat John out the door and into a cab before John could follow.  However, it didn’t work because John was already waiting on the stoop ready to go.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and hailed a cab and said, “come on then, time is of the essence.”

As John crawled into the back of the cab he bumped his head and muttered “God damn it!”

Sherlock took this opportunity to smirk and announce that maybe he should stay home since he too most likely would have a bump on his head.

John grumbled, “Don’t tempt me, but what are you going to tell all the Yarders, especially Lestrade when you show up without your husband, because they all know we just got back and I can’t possibly have a shift at the clinic.”

Sherlock just huffed at him and barked the directions at the cabbie, “and the sooner you get us there, the better tip you’ll get.”  Not because he was in a hurry to get to the crime scene, he just didn’t want to listen to John drone on about the damn cardboard tube, though he had been silent about it.

John sat there looking out the window waiting quietly, he was trying to think of a way to approach the subject later, maybe after they got home, but he couldn’t think of anyway that would work without pissing Sherlock off any more than he already was.  He sighed quietly and thought, maybe Greg was right, maybe he should have just left things as they were, he had after all promised him that he wouldn’t do anything special for him, he just thought that it would be nice to give Sherlock his own space and quiet when he needed it for his experiments, plus then he would have his own refrigerator to bring anything he wanted home – like severed heads – John still shivered whenever that particular memory came up.

They finally arrived to their destination which was a three story building in one of the posher neighbourhoods, the house appeared to have all the works, flood lights that would illuminate the house at night but since it was only three in the afternoon, they obviously weren’t on.  A gate with a keypad to enter, video cameras, and a state of the art security system, whomever lived here was serious about their privacy.

John whistled as they got out of the cab and Sherlock nicely handed the fare and a generous tip over to the driver which earned him a thanks mate, leaving Sherlock to grin like a cat who got the cream. 

“ _No_ , you’re quite welcome mate,” Sherlock answered back a lilt in his voice, trying to upset John.  John had off course heard the entire exchange and decided to ignore it.  The cabbie was way too young for him and not exactly Sherlock’s type, but then a nagging began in the back of John’s mind and he just pushed it out of the way, Sherlock would never do something that stupid, in fact John had never seen him with anyone else than himself, even Sherlock had even admitted he hadn’t been with anyone all this time since get kicked out of Uni and that had ended badly, instead John just whistled as he walked up to Lestrade which disappointed Sherlock although he didn’t let it show.

When John stood next to Lestrade, Lestrade whispered, “I guess the gift didn’t go over too well?”

With Sherlock finally standing by their side, John shook his head no and voiced “Wow, who lives in this joint?”

“Apparently someone important and we aren’t supposed to ask any questions.”

“Then, let me guess this is a welcome home present from my dearest brother,” he sneered at Letsrade, “Come on John, I don’t have time for any of this inanity.”

“Sherlock, you just can’t leave, this is very important, apparently it concerns something to do with national security.”  Lestrade pleaded.

“Then tell my brother to put his men on it.”

”He has and his three best men are missing.”

“Interesting.” Sherlock voiced now genuinely interested, putting his gloved hand up to his lips and tapping them while apparently running scenarios in his head.

John’s head shot up, he’d been looking at his feet in order to keep his mouth shut and not interrupt, he was already in the dog house so to speak and he was not about to make it worse but he couldn’t abide by this.

“Oh no, if Mycroft lost three of his men, he is not putting Sherlock on this, he’s already had too many brushes with death and I don’t care to risk number four.”

“John, those were nothing.”

“Nothing?!” John raised his voice. “How can you even say that Sherlock?  Do you even know what that would do to me?”

“Evidently give you want you want easier than the way you’re going on it about it now.” Sherlock growled back.

“What the hell is that even supposed to mean? Do you regret…” John couldn’t even bring himself to finish the sentence.

He turned to Lestrade, “Have fun putting up with him, he didn’t want me here with him anyway so I’ll give him what he wants and go home.”

“John wait,” Lestrade spoke turning to catch up with him as he strode down the sidewalk while Sherlock just stood there waiting to get in the house as the gates were still closed.

“I can’t do this without, you’re the only one that can keep him from doing something stupid.  Also they want this kept this very discreet with the victim and all so I need a doctor.”

“Look, you have your own coroner and I saw that you had Sally and Anderson there, the two biggest gossips in the whole of NSY, I’m sure you can find one of your coroners who will keep their mouth shut, and besides, he’s not listening to me now as you can obviously see.  So it would just be better if I went just home and unpacked and found something useful to do with my time.”

“He really didn’t like the plans I take it?”

John didn’t bother with an answer and he didn’t bother to turn around and look at Lestrade when he yelled, “come on John, I need you and so does he.”

John just waved his hand and kept walking.  When he was sure he was past the stage where he thought he might cry, he hailed a cab and returned home to Baker Street.  Mrs. Hudson was struggling to open the door with an arm full of groceries and John quickly rushed up, “Here, let me get that for you.”  He also took both bags and carried the to her apartment for her.

“I didn’t realise you boys would be back so early or I’d have made some scones to welcome you home.”

“Oh, thank you, but that won’t be necessary, Sherlock’s gone on a case, not even a three he lied,” he didn’t want her worrying, “but he’s been itching for one after two weeks out of not having any.  So I thought I’d stay behind, get to the store and fill our fridge and do the unpacking and maybe some laundry.”

“Sherlock’s a lucky man to have found you, I don’t know how he even survived without you.”

 _Almost got himself killed three times John thought to himself_ , but he wasn’t about to tell Mrs. Hudson that, “Well I guess I better get upstairs and get started, have to make a list before I head to Tesco’s.

He quickly took off out the door before Mrs. Hudson could ask them how their honeymoon went and when he finally got into 221b, he shut the door quietly and sunk back against it, quiet tears streaming down his face.  He decided to go get the tube and with a black magic marker write **_for burning, I’m sorry,_** in big bold letters and set it by the fireplace and then took his jacket off and threw it on the floor by the inside of the door.  He then went to the kitchen and got the bottle of whiskey their last client had bequeathed to them for a job well done and got a glass and then sat at the table and proceeded to empty half the bottle before staggering to bed.  He knew he should dink some water in hopes of lessening the hangover he’d wake up with tomorrow, but he just didn’t care.

When he got to the bedroom though, he looked over the neatly made bed.  He wasn’t sure Sherlock wouldn’t even want him here, so he turned around and staggered back up the hallway to his old room.  He stripped down to his pants and vest and crawled under the covers, he was that numb from the alcohol, he couldn’t even cry himself to sleep.

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

It had taken Sherlock all of twenty minutes to figure out that it was an assassination, that the assassin was given the pass code by the maid who just happened to be her boyfriend and the last time the Ambassador had given a party, the maid had gotten him a job and he set it up to disable the cameras for the day of the assassination.  Figuring out who the assassin was, that was a bit tougher until he gained access to the Ambassador’s computer which turned out to be bad news for Mycroft because it was one of the officials that worked under him that didn’t want certain measures to be passed.  He sent one of Mycroft’s teams to go after the person of interest and when they did, they found the three missing agents.

“Seems like you and my brother have gotten very close,” Sherlock snarked.

“You could say that and it surprises me you didn’t want to run after our murderer.”

“I promised John,” he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Lestrade to hear.

Then when Sherlock was getting ready to leave Lestrade grabbed him by the collar and said “oh no, you’re coming back to the station with me. We have some paper work to do and some things to discuss.”

“Lestrade if this is about John I’d rather handle it by myself.”

“Yes, and that seems to be going so well for you after the way you treated John earlier and forced him away.”

Sherlock huffed and started walking towards Lestrade’s vehicle, “come on, I want to get this over as quick as possible.  I should probably get home, see if I can straighten this out with John before it gets any more complicated.”

The drive back to NSY seemed to take forever, yet Lestrade gave Sherlock time to think because he knew getting Sherlock to talk after the paper work finished was probably going great bit of doing even after everything they’ve been through together.  He figured he should take him somewhere else like his apartment since his wife no longer lived there. It took about an hour and a half to finish the paper work simply because he wanted to drag things out and give John sometime to cool down.  He knew how upset he was when Sherlock him pushed to leave the crime scene, so he wanted to keep Sherlock busy as long as he could.

“Ok, I think we are finally done.  Come on, you and I need to talk before you go home.”

“Lestrade.” Sherlock glared at him.

“No Sherlock, you need this, I don’t think you quite understand what’s going on, come on, I know a place we can go to talk.”

“I’m not going.” he said checking his watch. “It’s half ten and I’m worried about John, he hasn’t texted or anything.”

“And why do you think that is Sherlock?  I didn’t see you text him either.  John’s really hurt and you have no clue why.”

“He’s not the one who should be hurt,” Sherlock all but yelled “he hurt me very badly.”

Lestrade stood, “We are not having this conversation here where there are ears, we can go back to my place.”

“Fine, since I guess there’s no way of talking you out of this, we might as well get this over with.”

Sherlock soon found himself walking into Lestrade’s flat which was pretty empty now with all his wife’s knick knacks and possessions gone.  Sherlock couldn’t help himself.  “Been spending most of your nights at Mycroft’s?”

Lestrade blushed, “Come on that’s not what we’re here to talk about and you know it.”  Lestrade walked over to the fridge to offer Sherlock a drink and all he happened to have was beer and water.

“Beer or water, slim pickings I know.”  Another indication he was spending more time at Mycroft’s then here at his place and Sherlock shivered at the thought.

“Water is fine.”

“He took the chair opposite of the couch as Greg set the water on the coffee table and opened his beer and took a swig.

“So,” Sherlock began, “How is it I hurt John, enlighten me.”

Not how Greg expected this conversation to start, but he was thankful because he didn’t have any idea to work his way up to it.

“Did you even look at his gift.”

“No, because I told him after what we spent on our rings it was more than enough and I told him there was no need for us to buy a separate gift for each other, his ring wrapped around my finger and mine around his was all I needed.”

“Yes, but did you ever think he wanted to do something special for you in return for all you did and for all you’ve been through together,” Greg tried to explain.

“What by getting rid of me by sending me upstairs?  Realising he made a mistake marrying me, what if I had better plans for the extra room upstairs?”

Greg ran his hands over his face, he was lost. “What in the hell do you mean Sherlock, you’ve lost me and if you had an idea, how would that not be the same as a gift?”

“It doesn’t matter.”  Sherlock still hadn’t touched his water. “By John putting me upstairs out of his sight, he can do anything he wants, secretly talk to women or worse yet other men, and without him near, I can’t properly think or get through experiments. So by him even having Mycroft have someone draw up plans for a lab, it really does say something loud and clear.”

“Sherlock, why would you even think John would want to get rid of you and what could possibly be more important than a lab just for you where you can have everything you need and so you can safely conduct your experiments without making a mess down stairs which you know always upsets him. Also you could have your own fridge and bring home whatever you wanted.”

“You had a hand in this, didn’t you?”

“Not until Mycroft showed me the completed plans and I recall saying to him the Sherlock’s not going to like this, he doesn’t do well with change, but Mycroft replied that you’re a married man so you need to compromise, but I would gather you didn’t even look at the plans and started a strop” Sherlock tried to rebut though Greg kept talking, “don’t tell me you didn’t, I know you better.  Don’t you think maybe that hurt John’s feelings a lot bit.”

“I did not.” and then “You’re right” Sherlock almost whispered.  “I walked right past it to the bedroom to change and when I came out it was still there but then after you called and I walked past the kitchen again it was gone.  I don’t want to open the tube, I wanted something more upstairs, something just for John and myself but it seems he doesn’t want the same.”

Greg didn’t ask because he was sure Sherlock wouldn’t tell him and the few thoughts that ran made him shiver, “Look what you need to do is go home and talk to John, get this mess sorted out and tell him your ideas, maybe you could come up with a compromise.”

“How can you be so sure Greg that he doesn’t regret marrying me?”

“Because I head his vows and I’ve watched the way he’s looked at you and after you all of these years even after you came home and Mary was there, even after things went bad with Mary, he came back to you.  Honestly I don’t think it was her he wanted to marry because he had feelings for you but he didn’t think you reciprocated his feelings.  Sherlock he would die for you, why do you think he follows you on cases, even when he was married to her for that bit of time?  He doesn’t want anything to happen to you because if you were gone for real, I don’t think John would survive it this time.”

Sherlock looked at Greg and blinked not knowing how to process this since it was something they never really discussed.  Of course they had talked about what Sherlock went through and the scars on his back but John only said the thing that kept him going was that Sherlock would be disappointed if he didn’t go on without him, and secretly he had prayed that somehow this had all been a hoax and Sherlock would come back to him.

“How bad was it Greg.” He asked meekly. 

“I took his gun away and shortly after he left Baker Street.  I would check on him almost every night at the beginning and then when he was doing better once a week and then when he started seeing Mary, he changed and didn’t have any time for any of the old gang.  I think it upset Mrs. Hudson most of all.”

Sherlock hung his head. “he never told me it was that bad for him.  He knew how bad it was for me and he helped me through the nightmares when he finally came home but I never realized or thought how it would have affected him.  I was just trying to save him, Mrs. Hudson and you.  _He_ had threatened to kill all three of you and I had to do it.  I even hinted to John but I guess he missed it.  I told him it was all a magic trick.  And as I was lying there on the pavement and I heard him in anguish and felt him take my pulse that wasn’t there, it was almost too much to bear, but I had to be strong because I couldn’t take it if anything happened to the three of you because of me.”

Greg let out a sigh, “I never knew.”

“I swore John and Mycroft to secrecy, well once John found out anyway.”

“Thank you and I promise not to say anything to any, well save maybe to Mycroft.  He and I may have some things to discuss now.”

Sherlock checked his watch, it was nearly one in the morning. “Greg, I think I need to go home, I don’t want John to be worried, even if he’s mad at me, I know he’ll still worry.”

“True, Greg got up and walked Sherlock to the door, the only time Sherlock ever used his name correctly was when he was having a serious conversation.  It reminded Greg of the old days when he helped get Sherlock back on his feet.

“And Sherlock, thanks for remembering my name.”

“Oh I’ve always known it; I just like to mess around with you Graham.” Sherlock smiled, “And thanks for this, it has helped and I have some thinking to do.”

“You’re welcome Sherlock and you do know I’m here anytime you need me,” and before the detective could turn around Greg pulled him into a hug and when he let go, “Sorry about that, but I want you to know there are people who you can talk to that won’t meddle in your affairs.  I‘ll listen and give you advice, but it’s up to you and John to work this out.”

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Sherlock left Lestrade’s and instead of hailing a cabhe walked home, he had some thinking to do.  He wanted something much more important than a lab but he didn’t know if John had wanted the same thing after all the lying and hurt that Mary had caused him.  He cursed himself again for not seeing through her, but in the end they had won and now he and John were together and he was being over paranoid about something as stupid as a nice gesture from John. 

He found himself at one of the entrances to Regeant’s park and decided to cut across the Park to think some more.  He ended up sitting on a bench staring at the stars a while before the chill got to him, figuring out a compromise if Mrs. Hudson would allow it and John was accepting of the idea he had for the room upstairs.

By the time he made it home, he was chilled to the bone and it was near 3 am, he found John’s coat lying on the floor, not a good sign and the tube with big black letters that said for burning, I’m sorry almost made him cry. He picked up john’s coat and hung it on his hook and then took his coat of and hung it on his own.  He tip-toed back the hallway to check on John and was surprised to find their bed empty.  He wondered why and when he got to the kitchen he saw – half a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler sitting on the table.  John obviously was very hurt by Sherlock’s rude behavior and decided to drown himself in alcohol and Sherlock guessed John figured that Sherlock wouldn’t want him sleeping with him after the fit he threw at the crime scene.  He debated going up to apologise to John now but John was probably out for the count or would wake up belligerent and a fight would occur and Sherlock didn’t want to fight any more.  God this was bad enough.

So he put the cap on the whiskey and put it back on the shelf and then put the tumbler in the sink. The table was cleared because he had put everything away while they were gone for two weeks.  He had promised both John and Mrs. Hudson he would not let any experiments sit out so John watched him as he thoroughly cleaned everything and he smiled at the memory. He wiped the table down just in case it was sticky and let it dry before going and getting the tube and bringing it out to the table.  He did smile at the four different designs and realized John had put some thought into this himself but this really isn’t what he wanted.  He wanted something much more than a lab so he took a pencil and began marking his own ideas over the original markings.  He didn’t realise how long he’d been at it until he heard John walking down the stairs and felt John’s eyes on him.

He looked up taking in John’s ragged appearance. _Oh shit really not good._

He half smiled, asked if John wanted some tea and paracetamol, maybe some toast.

Instead of a yes please, he was met with a “what the hell is this?” he almost yelled as he pointed to the plans and snatched them from the table crumpling them up and throwing them towards the fireplace. Sherlock was dismayed and tried speaking only to be cut off by John, “What? Now because Lestrade gave you a good talking to you’re open to looking at the plans, well forget it if you don’t want a lab we don’t need it.”

“But John, please you don’t understand, I had an idea for the extra room that I was waiting for the right time to tell you about it, well ask your opinion really.  Please will you go look at what I’ve penciled in.”

John just stood there unmoving.

“What, now you’re going to act like me and not even look?”

John grumbled something Sherlock couldn’t hear as he what he was saying as hewobbled over to get the plans and bring them to the table unwrinkling them.  He was amazed to see the corrections; well new plans Sherlock had basically drawn over the originals.  He teared up and looked at Sherlock. 

“This is what you really want.”

And all Sherlock could do was shake his head yes.  “I’m sorry if I misjudged, if you don’t want…”

John’s heart dropped to his stomach, this was partly his fault because he never brought it up to Sherlock because he never thought that this would be something Sherlock would be interested in doing.

Sherlock was now looking down, shuffling his feet, his hands behind his back and swaying back and forth.  John put his hand under Sherlock’s chin and brought his eyes up to meet his, he was surprised by what he saw, pale blue eyes, trying not to let any tears falls.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“John I just didn’t know how.”  He paused, “no that’s not it, I was scared that you would laugh at me or not wanted after everything that happened with _her_.” Sherlock waved his hand.

“You amaze me, things will change drastically and it’s what I’ve always wanted, but only with you I realised, and I wasn’t sure if it would be something that you would want, so I never brought it up.”

“John – “ he began, but John pulled him close bringing their lips together, his hand sliding form his chin, across his cheek and around to the nape of his neck, pulling him even closer, which Sherlock didn’t think was possible, deepening their kiss.  Sherlock’s hands found themselves running up and down John’s back and he didn’t mind the sour taste of leftover alcohol.  When they broke for air, John led him back to their room and had Sherlock sit on the edge of the bed.  He cupped his cheeks and apologized.

“I’m so sorry for going against your wishes and having those plans drawn up, but I think now it’s worked out beautifully.”

“John I’m so sorry for treating you terribly, I should have just told you from the start.”

John moved his left hand to Sherlock’s lips and hushed him, “It’s all over now and things worked out,” John whispered, leaning back in for another kiss, this time letting their mouth slowly side together, and pushing Sherlock back onto the bed and crawling on top of him, knees and hands on the outside of Sherlock’s body, licking at the seam of his lips until Sherlock opened his mouth and John nipped at his bottom lip and sucked on it before letting his tongue slip into Sherlock’s mouth and explore.

It had been awhile since they’d taken things this slow and John was going to relish every moment of this.  He slowly unbuttoned Sherlock’s shirt and ran his hands over his chest softly making Sherlock shiver. He ran his hand down palming Sherlock’s growing erection, whispering I love you over and over.  Sherlock tried to pull him closer, But John had other plans first, he undid his belt and button and slid Sherlock’s zip open.  He then sat back on his knees and pulled Sherlock up enough to ease his shirt off and throw it on the floor.  Sherlock took this chance to roll his hips up catching John and tugging at his vest and managing to get it off and throwing it across the bed to join his shirt on the floor.

“Now, now, patience, I want this to last, to be etched in our memories for all times.”

He hovered over Sherlock pushing him on to his back gently, snaking his hand down his trousers surprised to find Sherlock was wearing his silk boxers and Sherlock groaned as John ran his hand down the length of his cock, fondling his balls, then slowly dragging his hand back up brushing his thumb over his crown and Sherlock shuddered.  John smiled and sat back again and pulled Sherlock’s trousers off leaving them both in their boxers, he kissed at Sherlock’s neck nipping at his collar bone while running his hands back over his chest letting his thumbs brush over Sherlock’s nipples, pulling a deep moan from his husband. 

He now used his right leg to nudge Sherlock’s apart to inch between them and drop himself between Sherlock’s thighs and lightly thrust against him, Sherlock canting his upwards silently asking for more.  John smiled against Sherlock’s skin, he had a strong need to have his pants off so he could feel the silk against his skin.

“ _John_ ” Sherlock called out, “please.”

“Shh. I want to feel my skin up against those silky boxers.”

“Oh God, yes” Sherlock pled.

John pushed his boxers down, wriggling out of them.

They both groaned as John slid against Sherlock, moaning when he felt how Sherlock’s boxers were already wet.  He travelled down his body kissing rullet scar reverently that he felt responsible for and then down the rest of his lean chest till he reached the hem of the boxers.  He took the hem between his teeth and pulled it back and Sherlock thought he was going to remove the piece of clothing this way, but John left it snap back on his skin and moved his way down mouthing over the fabric making it wetter and Sherlock quivered, opening his legs further. John moved the whole way down to his balls and paid special attention to them, sucking each one in his mouth and delighting in the lewd noises Sherlock made.  He moved his hand up and down his shaft pleased that Sherlock was now wordless and writhing as John slid his hands up and hooked his fingers in the boxers and pulled them off.

He kissed his way back up to Sherlock’s plush lips and brushed his hand over his forehead, into his curls, “what is it you want, my gorgeous husband?”

Sherlock smiled, he loved it when John called him husband, he gathered himself and answered, “just like this, slow. I want this to last forever.”

“Mmmm,” John murmured against his lips as he slid them together again, “anything you want.”

John reached under the pillow and searched finding the bottle exactly where they left it, “perfect.”

He slathered his fingers, rubbing them together to warm the thick liquid as he let his fingers drift down to his perineum where he massaged the area until Sherlock was begging for more, he skimmed his fingers back further and began to circle Sherlock’s hole languidly until Sherlock was squirming below him.

“John _PLEASE_ ”

John lightly slid his finger over his hole back and forth increasing the pressure with each pass until Sherlock was sobbing for more.  He pushed in the tip of his finger and then pulled it out, repeating and going deeper each time until Sherlock was ready for a second finger and then a third and slowly began to massage his prostate.  John watched as precome pooled on Sherlock’s stomach and he so wanted to move down and lick it up, instead he kissed Sherlock as he pulled his fingers out and slather lube on his heavy, throbbing cock and slowly pushed in all the way to the hilt, Sherlock quivering and whimpering.

John kept his movements exactly as Sherlock had asked slow and measured, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in, the only sounds heard in the room were heavy breathing and the occasional _I love you_ and _yes there, deeper please John, John please._

Sherlock reached up and cupped John’s cheek as their eyes locked, John’s irises, or what could be seen of them were deep blue, Sherlock’s silver, their eyes never leaving each other as John slowly thrusted and Sherlock canted his hips so John brushed his prostate with each pass, Sherlock never asking for more and John never speeding up.  Both of them feeling the coiling of pressure low in their stomach and it was building and they were both almost there.

“Sherlock.”

“John.”

Both crying each other’s names as they came, John spilling into Sherlock and Sherlock stilling as he came, spurting between them.  John kept thrusting slowly until they were both sensitive and he pulled out, falling to his side and then his back pulling Sherlock on top of him.

They lay there in blissful silence a long time until John said, “So a nursery, how long did you want to wait?  I know waiting lists are forever.”

“As much as I hate to admit, I will ask Mycroft for help.”

John chuckled.  Sherlock looked up at him confused.

John noted what he saw and admitted, “You just keep amazing me, I never thought that you would want this and that’s the one thing that I wanted most with you.”

“I did have another thought that we made need Mycroft for.  Since at some point it wouldn’t be safe to have experiments on the kitchen table, we could ask Mrs. Hudson about converting 221c to a lab.”

John smiled and kissed him deeply and pulled away, “see, this one of the many reasons I love you my brilliant husband.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always kudos and comments are appreciated and I hope you enjoy it.


End file.
